


Won't You Light My Way?

by FallOutFromGrace



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Demon Gerard Way, Demon Mikey Way, Demonic Possession, Demons, Depressed Frank Iero, M/M, Paganism, Ray Toro is just an awesome guy, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:21:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22634227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallOutFromGrace/pseuds/FallOutFromGrace
Summary: “Sure. Just keep in mind, divinity is a hell of a drug.” With Frank being oddly immune and resistant to Gerard's allure, Gerard starts to lose his patience and finds himself drawn further into an abyss he isn’t quite familiar with. Love can be strange to handle, especially when you’re not exactly allowed to fall for a human.-ON HIATUS-
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is yet another re-write turned into a multi-chaptered epic. I recently found this in between some important documents literally printed out from ages ago, when I used to print out my fan fiction to edit by pencil in class so I could sneak it past the teachers. Brilliant or sad? You choose! Unsure if they ever knew or noticed, but this is the beautiful product of so much procrastination. Inspired by the song called Light My Way by Audioslave that I picked up on one of “I Have Been All Things Unholy”’s fanmixes, its also somewhat inspired by Unholyverse. This will also have way way more content than This Tour Sucks, so definitely expect it to continue. Cheers!
> 
> EDIT: If you somehow found this fic and read it before this was written in, I apologize for the mistakes, they should all be fixed up now!
> 
> EDIT2: I suck at summaries, so I hope this new one makes more sense??? idk man have fun

There was something so infinitely satisfying about his work. To prey unto the weakened, burdened souls and taunt them with the sickest temptation in his arsenal, only to suddenly drop the world from under their feet and watch them fall into a devilish pit of despair.

Most of the time, he hardly had to move a muscle to cause a ripple in existence, a wink sent in the right direction to the right woman was more than enough to affect their lover, who then went on take it out on their friends, who then spread it to family, to lonely cashiers on a night shift at the gas station, to mothers left to worry for their son’s lives, all the way down and down to the smallest, most insignificant life. It was a thing of beauty, really, an art that needed time and effort and practice to master just as any other medium. And Gerard was nothing if not an artist.

The bartender silently placed a drink in front of his hand, the cool glass seeping into his warmed skin. He toyed with the rim, slowly tracing a finger along the edge with a stare that had destroyed many hearts and souls before. He hadn’t had the chance to choose another victim yet, the weekday night was slow and filled with the degenerates he had already had the pleasure of either wrecking or bedding (or both), and nobody new stumbled through. Not even the trap he’d set up, a sweet one that should have attracted good boys and girls like moths to a deadly flame, was working. Every good husband and wife and whatever the fuck was left over was safely tucked in bed, responsibly resting for the next workday.

Pity.

He squinted slightly, the sting of boredom picking at him. He took a drink, the taste lacking as usual. The normal mortal remedies for aches and heartbreaks didn’t work for him, sadly. When the nights ended and he found himself facing another sunrise, he always wondered about it.

Gerard turned around and leaned against the bar, taking one last look around the room. In hindsight, Tuesday was always a shitty night. He was just about ready to leave before somebody new suddenly stumbled into the bar, wet shoes smacking against the dirty floor and shaking his head, drops of rain scattering about him. The man looked around the room, clearly angry and fed up and hoping for a moments break, and made a beeline right for him.

Gerard felt a smirk creep onto his face.

“Move, I’m fucked off as it is and I can’t be assed to wait.”

The guy sat on the barstool, slamming his elbows on the countertop and sighing into his hands. He rubbed his face, hard, and Gerard tried to catch a glimpse of all the pictures on his arms and hands as slyly as possible without looking too obvious. It didn’t seem to work, the guy swiveled angrily towards him and sneered, “Want a fucking picture?”

The demon shrugged, drinking the last bit of the amber liquid in his glass, “I’d rather see them somewhere else, actually. Preferably behind closed doors and underneath some bedsheets.”

He got a scoff in return and a grumble, something about disbelief of being hit on when he was in that state and how ridiculous of a joke it was.

“I’m… assuming this is a rough night,” Gerard asked.

“Yeah, don’t you fucking know it… hey, Wayne? Wayne! Come on, man, I need a break over here…”

Gerard furrowed his brow. “I’ve never seen you around here before, how do you know the bartender?”

“Well!” He smiled sickly, looking exhausted and just about ready to swing a punch at Gerard for his line of questioning, “It’s almost like it isn’t any of your goddamn business how I know Wayne, huh? Almost like I don’t know who you are and don’t need to explain jack shit.”

“Point taken,” Gerard nodded.

Wayne made his way over to the sad sack of a human, placing a rather colorful drink in front of him, “Frank, come on, don’t be such a dick. That’s just Gerard, he doesn’t bite. He’s one of my regulars.”

Gerard bit back a comment on his biting and watched Frank, a curious name for such a tattooed man, very closely as he tried to swallow it all in one go without obviously grimacing.

“Too sweet?” Wayne asked.

“No, it’s fine, it’s just…I’m sick as hell again and everything either tastes like shit or tastes of nothing, and you somehow managed to hit the sweet spot of both at the same time.”

“Ah, well, I’ll take that as a compliment and I’ll be waiting for my trophy in the mail. Along with my fucking amp, by the way, when are you giving that back?”

Frank tossed the empty glass back at the bartender, not looking at him in the eye, “I’ve almost got enough saved up for my own, I promise it won’t be much longer. I gave you back your guitar, and in pristine condition, didn’t I?”

Wayne seemed to agree, though his job beckoned him and he quickly walked off to another patron that had hauled themselves onto another stool, forgetting Frank's glass. Frank eyed him as his friend started his spiel of “if you're too drunk, I’m calling you a cab whether you like it or not”, almost forgetting he wasn’t entirely alone.

“Saint Francis, I take it…” Gerard spoke, turning to face him. He placed his own glass right next to his, taking care to ever so gently and secretly brush their fingers together. He saw a little flicker of black over Frank’s bright green eyes when he looked back at him briefly and struggled to keep his smirk down. Tagged.

Frank shrugged and leaned his head against the counter, feeling his forehead stick to the surface. He looked to be trying hard not to think about what could it could be. “Patron Saint of animals and nature. My mother was a catholic.”

“Was?”

“Was.”

“And you are…?”

“Not interested in answering a boatload of questions. What’s with the third degree, huh? Can’t a guy just wallow in his misery on his own in a shitty bar anymore?”

“Sorry, I just find you interesting.”

“Yeah, well I don’t-“

“Frank!” Wayne yelled from the other end, “Be nice, come on!”

Frank sighed. “Wayne seems to think highly of you.”

Gerard could tell him it was because he had already played, wrecked, bedded and marked Wayne with his own cocktail of magick, but he bit his tongue. Wouldn’t do to ruin this before it got any good.

“Well, you know, it pays to not be a complete drunken disaster when you come in here. And I can handle my alcohol incredibly well, so I’m probably a pretty good source of business for him.”

“What do you mean, it takes you a long time to get drunk?”

“Sure, let’s go with that.”

Frank shrugged, “Just means you pay more to get drunk. Say what you want about lightweights being a buzzkill, I’m a cheap drunk and I’m happy that way. Besides…” He took a look at the man that Wayne was desperately trying to wrestle off the counter, scolding constantly, “at least I’m not out there making a fool of myself and doing shit that would make God turn his back on me.”

“Ah-Ha, so you are a catholic!”

Frank gave him a small smile, “Not exactly, but sure. Let’s go with that.”

Gerard smiled back. Alright. So not your ordinary prey. He took a moment to really study him while Frank waved Wayne down for a second drink.

Frank felt…smooth. Easygoing, behind all the hesitation and defense. He had walls, sure, just like anyone else in this shit town, but there was a warm core beneath them. And the walls he built up weren’t exactly made of stone and concrete, more like brittle wood begging to be burned down. A good guy caught between a rock and a hard place, wanting to be figured out and known. All of that was fairly normal, Gerard had come across many men and women who were desperate for recognition of any kind. Most of them turned to some questionable practices to get the attention they desire, but a lot of them stayed honest and on a straight path just hoping for the right person. And that right person was a role Gerard was an expert in, speaking words of milk and honey and urging them to spill their deepest darkest desires in the dead of night.

But what wasn’t ordinary was his resistance. The way he had his own share of charisma to throw back was strange, usually everybody had turned to absolute putty before him in the first…well, minute. Minute and a half if he was having a slow day, but they never….bantered. The only ones that did were definitely not human, definitely catholic, and, most certainly, definitely not tattooed all the way up from knuckles and down to, hopefully, his hips…

Wayne tossed Frank the same drink in a different glass and wordlessly gave Gerard a second as well, before turning to the other patrons. Frank frowned at Gerard’s drink, watching as he raised it to his mouth and pressed his lips against it. Neither took their eyes off each other, though Gerard wasn’t sure if it was him or the questions buzzing in his head.

“Wayne has never talked about you before…but he knows you enough to give you another drink without even looking at you. Who are you?”

Gerard raised his eyebrows momentarily, grinning into the rest of his bitter drink. “That is a question with too many answers, depends on which one you fancy. But for simplicity’s sake, let’s go with…“

“Gigolo?”

Gerard coughed into his glass and barked a laugh.

“The way you carry yourself, you can’t blame me. Come on. Mysterious man at the bar, waiting to be approached by the right person, looking all sketchy and weird…”

“Fuck, no, I’m not a gigolo. But I do like to sleep around. That’s enough about me, though, something’s bothering you and Wayne clearly has his hands full, so spill. What’s going on? And don’t bullshit me about being sick, I know its something else.”

Frank sat up straight, turning his drink in his hand. He looked at his own reflection on its surface, and sighed deeply and softly. “What gave it away?” He drank from it, grimacing a little less this time.

“Your face? How wet you are? The fact that you stumbled into a seedy bar with shitty music at midnight on a Tuesday? Nobody in a right state of mind would be here tonight.”

“Oh, so you’re a psychic woo woo type of shit. What, did you see me in your weird crystal ball, you…fucking… god, I’m shit at this tonight.”

“Sure, you can call it that, but don’t change the subject.”

Frank seemed to hesitate. His eyes looked meek and he suddenly seemed very small, troubled between keeping himself quiet and telling this complete stranger all his woes. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy that wanted pity, of any kind, but the way his shoulders sagged like he had the weight of the world resting on them appeared like he was willing to take the chance just to feel a little lighter.

“It’s just…too complicated to explain. I don’t even know where to start.”

“Then just start,” Gerard responded, pulling the chair just a little bit closer to Frank’s, “I’ve got all eternity.”

“I…” His mouth opened slightly, and Gerard could almost see the words coming out of his mouth, but he shut it and shook his head sideways. He seemed to fidget a little nervously then and glanced back at Gerard briefly before he seemed to decide the second drink wasn’t worth sticking around for. “Sorry,” he said, looking right into him. Suddenly, the black flashed in his eyes again, followed by a white one, an act so brief Gerard nearly missed it. He tensed up, something Frank definitely caught. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

“I just met you, it’s…a little weird to be telling you my life story. I’m gonna go. Gerard, was it…?”

Gerard nodded, still tense.

“I’ll be seeing you.” He stood up and left, bewildered by Gerard’s sudden change in attitude, and made his way to the door. He waved at Wayne, and was ready to pull the doors open and go back out into the murky night when a shout of his name stopped him in his tracks.

“How about next time, then?” Gerard asked, now looking relaxed again, “We won’t have just met then.”

“Yeah…” Frank scratched the back of his neck idly, still feeling very strange about the entire encounter, “yeah, maybe.”

Gerard watched him go. He swiped the other man’s drink, and tried to get a taste of him leftover in the alcohol, but there didn’t seem to be anything amiss. Tasted just like any other human, just…maybe sweeter? Which wasn’t abnormal and not unwelcome, but still. Regular and ordinary. Everything he caught about Frank said he should have been an easy target and already under him by now. Maybe followed by some guilt of whatever secrets he’d spilled when under ecstasy, or, hell, if he was predisposed to it, planned for breaking one of the commandments in a blind rage and waking up to a headline, a picture of his face in the news, and a claim of murder. It had been a while since he’d driven somebody that far and this part of town was due a death or two by now.

But he didn’t. He didn’t spill any secrets, he didn’t fall into his embrace, he didn’t even look at him with desire and devotion and all the little things he usually gets. He got stood up, basically.

And that flicker of white… something didn’t sit right with him.

He placed down enough money to cover all their drinks and left through the back. He walked up to the oddly liminal space behind the building, a lone alleyway that was naturally oozing out energy of all kinds, and slipped through the fabrics of reality. Tonight had been a bust, sure, but regardless what the flash that followed his mark was, Frank was tagged. He’d have his answers soon enough, but for now, it was enough knowing Frank was going to be his, wether he knew and wanted it or not.

———————————————  
Frank stumbled his way into his building, twitching awkwardly at a sad attempt to try to unstick the wet fabric of his shirt from his back. The rain hadn’t let all night, and, in hindsight, he should have waited at the bar before fairing the storm outside, but he couldn’t shake off an unease that settled over him when he saw that guy just…freeze like that. He was actually planning on getting completely shit faced and badgering Wayne to drive him all the way back, but…something tugged at him to leave.

He completely regretted it. His shoes made a disgusting wet sound every time he took a step, leaving puddles behind him from the front of the building all the way into the elevator, and to his front door. He sighed, almost tasting the warmth inside, and jiggled his keys into the shitty gate. What met him when he opened the door was not, in fact, a nice warm apartment, but a frighteningly cold living room with winds the old gods would fear battering through his open windows.

Fuck.

“Oh, I’m going to kill that fucking asshole. TORO!”

Frank kicked off his shoes as quickly as he could, peeling off his wet socks and tossing them angrily on the floor, and rushed to the windows to shut them. They fought against him, but he managed to close them before it got any worse. “Toro, I swear to fuck, if you’re in there jacking off all cozy in your warm room I’m going to singlehandedly destroy your entire Iron Maiden CD’s. Toro!”

He went over to the heaters and hissed at the contact. They were at their highest. Great. “Oh, okay! So we’re heating for outside now, great! Just great, we can barely make rent with our grand total of three jobs, but sure! Feel free to share our heating with the entirety of fucking Jersey why don’t you. Fucks sake…”

He’d just about had enough of this. Enough of Ray and his stupid, absent-minded habits, enough of the dirt and grime and tower of coke cans in the corner growing mold and new species of bacteria, enough with the stupid psychic weirdo pretty guy at the bar scaring him off from drowning himself in alcohol, and enough of this goddamn cold that looked like it had set up shop in his body for good. It had been a beautiful three-week long cough with phlegm and stuffy headaches, and no amount of paracetamol, chicken soup from the nice grandmother next door, sprite, and prayers were making it go away.

He sighed, a deep slow and exhausted sigh that ended with a coughing fit. He thought maybe it had started to go away when he hadn’t had one in the past few hours, but lo and behold it looked like hiking through the rain had given his cold the armor and sustenance it needed to continue thriving in his battered body. It might be another few weeks before it would go back down and gave him a break.

Frank shrugged off his wet hoodie, taking his shirt along with it, and hurried to his room. It wasn’t as messy as the rest of the place, but he was definitely glad he didn’t have his sense of smell back. Something in there had gone off before he got sick and since he couldn’t find it back then, by now it had probably multiplied. Whatever. Future Frank’s problem. He draped his wet clothes over his desk chair and bed frame, grabbing a clean shirt and sweats from his drawers, and hurried off to the bathroom for a nice, long, relaxing, eucalyptus bath. Ray would just have to deal with the smell and take his “My sinuses can’t handle that kind of shit” complaint to someone that cared.

He sat down on the side of the tub as the hot water filled and steamed up the small room. Frank could hardly believe it was barely the middle of the week yet, it had dragged on so much it felt like he’d lost years in just the two days that started the week. But no, he still had three more days to go before he had his leave set up, a day he had been anticipating for so so very long. It wasn’t much but it would be enough to get his head back together, wrap up in every single hoodie in the house (well, okay, not Ray’s, they fit too loose), and sweat this motherfucker out. He dipped a hand in the water, the temperature just right, and sunk into the green-tinted bath.

There wasn't much else he could do, about anything. His mind wandered back to the strange man at the bar, Gerard he'd called himself, and how he had asked him what was wrong. Frank scoffed.

“What’s wrong? What isn’t fucking wrong is what you should have asked…dick,” he mumbled to himself, dipping his head to wet his hair. He brushed it back with the palm of his hand, scrubbing softly at his scalp.

It just wasn’t his year. Ray’s car was stolen right in front of the building and it seemed the police in his area were so goddamn incompetent that they couldn’t figure out if it was the junkie on the third floor or not (which it WAS and nobody could convince Frank otherwise, the jackass was shifty every single time they walked past each other since), they were already positive they’d lost their deposit in this place because of some grand adventurous idea Ray had about making some metalwork or whatever in his room with a blowtorch, he still wasn’t able to convince his landlord to let him take his dogs back, and… fuck, he missed her, out of everything in the entire planet, he fucking missed her. He missed her so goddamn much it hurt to just be alive, the way she smiled when they woke up next to each other every morning, the coffee cup she made that was always hot even if he slept through the entire morning, and the way his name just rolled off her tongue. 

He coughed. The nice, medicinal scent of his bath crept into his nostrils, breaking down the pressure and finally letting him relax a bit better. He couldn’t do that to himself, allow himself to dwell on them again. He’d suffered enough, mourned them enough, hell, he was still paying for all the shit even today, he deserved a break from it all. But that… man at the bar, the way he spoke, his tone, the look in his eyes, it just brought it all back.

“He just had to ask…” he mumbled again to himself, grabbing a clean washcloth from a basket off the side of the tub and squirting some fruity gel onto it. The guy couldn’t have just left him alone, figured, “Hey, in a bar on a Tuesday? You must be fucked up, I’m out.” No, instead he thought “In a bar on a Tuesday? You must be fucked up, lemme look.” Was he that much of a wreck that people didn’t just ignore him anymore but stopped and stared?

A knock on the door cut his mental tirade short. He huffed.

“You, uh… you done being a complete psycho?” Ray’s muffled voice came from the other side of the door.

“Yeah,” Frank replied, sinking farther into the tub until bubbles touched his chin, “Yeah, I’m done. You can come in, you know.”

“And what, see dick? No thank you.”

“Don’t be such a pussy, I used more of the soap this time. Just open the door.”

The doorknob clicked, and in came Ray with his shirt bundled over his nose as he peered through the door. “I’m sorry I left the windows open.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Frank said, rearranging the bubbles to keep himself covered.

“No, I am worried about it, it was a dick move what with your cold and all…What if I get some pizza to make up for it?”

Frank shook his head sideways, “can’t taste anything even if my life depended on it. It’ll just piss me off.”

“Right… how about some NyQuil and shitty rom coms then?”

“NyQuil? You bought some NyQuil? I thought we didn’t have any left over,” Frank sat up slightly, his mood a little better. The real milk of ambrosia… he could have sworn they didn’t have any money left over after they calculated their funds for the month.

“My mom stopped by. I may have told her how you were doing and she came by with an entire arsenal from Walgreens.”

“Oh, fuck, that’s so sexy. Keep talking dirty like that, I’m getting close.”

Ray tossed a loofah at Frank, grinning, “Just make sure you air this out once you’re done and I’ll set you up.”

Frank nodded and watched him go. NyQuil. Fuck. It was music to his ears, the sweet promise of a decent rest. He wondered if he still had some of that soup leftover, though he figured he could just knock on the door and ask his neighbor. He leaned back, looking up at the ceiling, thinking that just maybe it wouldn’t end too bad. His mind seemed to wander back to Gerard again and what he’d said. The guy had come out with a comment the second he could, and it had rubbed Frank the wrong way just then. He was a complete disaster, having just dragged his waterlogged ass out of the pouring rain and looking pale, and Gerard thought he might be good in bed? What a sick joke. What a horrible, self-esteem lowering, bad…joke.

“Oh fuck, he wasn’t kidding!” He suddenly shouted at himself, sitting upright again, “He was serious. He really was hitting on me. Fuck! He was cute, what the hell, Frank?”

He just had to get all cold and defensive then, didn’t he? Even Wayne told him to lay off him, for crying out loud. Wayne! Mister “fuck off and tell your whore wife to fuck off my bar too”, who doesn’t take shit from anyone, told Frank to stop being such a dick and Frank still didn’t catch on, focused too much on his own misery to recognize that he may have been drying off and taking a bath in someone else’s place by now (or, more preferably, doing something else that required the same amount of clothing). He made a mental note to go back once the rain stopped and his cold got a little better, maybe with an apology. Or…something. What do you even say to somebody that tries to hit on you but you decide becoming the social equivalent of steel wool is more preferable?

“Idiot…!” He said to himself.

Fuck it. Fuck this night. Fuck that guy, fuck his boss, his landlord, everyone except Ray’s mom, and, honestly? Fuck this bath, all it was doing was making him think and only bad things came from thinking. Frank pulled himself out and drained the tub, drying off and dressing up, mind focused on some of that chicken soup and NyQuil. If anything, at the very least he could turn the night around and give himself some nice fever dreams before tomorrow started and he had to to back to work again. He wondered why for the life of him his thoughts kept circling back to Gerard but figured his recent lack of one night stands was probably the source.

He blew his nose into some tissue and suppressed another coughing fit as he dressed up. NyQuil, soup, shitty rom coms, and Ray’s incessant movie commentary it is. Sex, hopefully, some other time. Gerard was a regular at Wayne’s after all, maybe he’d have another shot.

Maybe.

Then again, maybe he’d be another wet, sick, irritating disaster bastard of a man again. It seemed charming enough the first time, what’s one more?

Out in the living room, Ray peered at him from behind the couch, watching as he looked to be fuming all over again. He raised an eyebrow at him that went unnoticed, the smaller man grumbling up to the kitchen as he sniffled into a balled-up tissue in his hand. He decided to take the chance and prod at him a little, worry creeping up at him. “What’s wrong?”

Frank threw his hands up in the air, “Fuck, are all my problems just written across my forehead?”

“Whoa, chill out!,” Ray raised his own hands up in defense, a weak attempt at keeping him at bay, “You just look more frustrated than usual, which hasn’t happened as often lately. Plus, I expected you to be home a lot later tonight.”

“Yeah, Wayne’s didn’t exactly work out. There was this guy there that just… I don’t know what to make of him,” Frank grabbed the Tupperware from the fridge, taking a whiff out of it to make sure it hadn’t gone bad yet. “I can’t stop thinking about him.”

Ray lowered his arm and gave him a sly smirk, “Oh? Does someone have a crush?”

Frank scoffed, “No, its not a crush, he’s just…weird. He hit on me and I was pissed off-“

“So, as usual.”

Frank glared at him, putting the leftovers into a bowl that went right into the microwave, “….Anyway, I was pissed off and he was interested, I guess, and I just…left.”

“You left? You had a chance to get laid and you left?”

“Just, shut up! Let me finish… we were talking, and it just got really weird all of a sudden and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I needed to just go home.”

“What were you talking about?”

“He just…asked me what was up. And I, uh…I may have called him a gigolo in the process.”

Ray had an entirely deadpan reaction the answer to his question, not even coming up with his usual annoyingly witty retorts. They blinked back at each other, and Frank’s anger very visibly ebbed away and was replaced by embarrassment and a blush. Ray was about to say something back when the microwave beeped and announced his divine and holy leftovers were ready for his snotty consumption. He quickly turned his back towards his roommate and got a tray and fork ready. Somewhat saved by the bell, sure, but he knew Ray was probably gearing up slightly.

When he got to the couch, Ray just frowned at him.

“Let me get this straight…” he started, Frank now somewhat meek eating his dinner, “You had a pretty boy come up and ask, hey, what’s wrong, and you up and call him a whore?”

Frank slurped a little too loudly on purpose to fill in the awkward silence before he spoke again. “Yeah…what of it?”

Ray just shook his head from side to side, wordlessly turning back to the tv and pressing the buttons on the cheap DVD player’s remote to try and get it to work. “You just cannot get laid can you?”

“Excuse you? I’ve gotten laid a ton more times than you, you fucking hermit!

“Brag all you want, you’ve been dry for ages. That girl the other week that came over just cuddled, I heard the whole thing.”

“Yeah, well…I was…sick, and so was she!”

“And she came here to nurse her own cold? We just got OTC meds, dude.”

Frank scoffed into his bowl, “Jesus fucking Christ, is it analyze the depressed bisexual week? I didn’t see you schedule it on the calendar, so lay off.”

“I’m just saying, don’t get all worked up! I think you should go back.”

Frank shoved the fork in his mouth, happy it seemed to get past his cold’s taste filter. He made a small mental note to go bring his neighbor a gift after he gets paid to thank her for being a fill-in grandma in his trying times. He couldn’t get too upset at Ray then, not really. He was kind of right, he had a chance and blew it and despite it feeling like Ray was also beating him up over it, he was just putting things into an annoying perspective. He wanted to go back, he already made his mind up about that in the bath earlier on, but he felt a little uncomfortable about it all.

“What would I say?” He asked, stuffing his cheeks with more food.

“How about you start by apologizing for calling him a whore?”

“I could…but I mean, I think he kind of is. He did say he liked sleeping around.”

“You have got to be kidding me, the guy practically placed himself in front of you on a silver platter and you still didn’t catch on?” Ray grinned then. Frank smiled back, finally relaxing a little bit more.

“Yeah whatever, if he wants it bad enough he’ll be there next time. What are we watching?”

“Bargain Bin Romance, something awkward and British.”

“Ah, wonderful. Maybe the brits will be able to teach me a thing or two about romance then.”

“I fucking hope so…”

Frank smacked Ray on his arm with a grin. They worked out the settings quickly, struggling with the control’s broken buttons, and let the movie roll. They would both have hell to pay in the morning for work, but they hardly had anything else anymore. Nights like this when all they had was just enough were hard to come by, where microwaved meals and $4 movies fit just right. It was a major change from the lives they’d led before, not that they were of any luxury or anything, but the past year had hit so hard the most Frank would do was lay in bed awake and think of everything he’d lost and let go. The pictures by his bedroom door didn’t help in easing the transition of that life to this one, and he oftentimes wondered if he should just put them away, but the guilt would overwhelm him every single time he even thought about touching them so he let them be.

He placed his bowl of soup on the coffee table in front, wrapping himself up in the blankets they keep on the couch, and took some of the NyQuil Ray had so lovingly left at his reach. Shame he wasn’t into him, Ray was definitely husband material and he’d said so numerous times before.

“Have I ever told you how happy I am that you’re here, Toro?” He mumbled into the knitted blanket, bunching it up in front of himself.

Ray smiled, keeping his eyes on the TV, “Only when you’re medicated.”

“Well, I am. I, uh…love you, or whatever.”

“Are you getting soft on me-Oof!” Frank interrupted him with a light kick to his side.

“Ssh, you’re ruining the movie.”

“Right… I love you too, Frank.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're coming in from tumblr, hello! Thanks for following my fic all the way to AO3. Hope you enjoy!

Just as he had predicted, the morning was brutal. He’d fallen asleep on the couch and had a backache that was killing him, but luckily he wasn’t late to work that day. He did miss his alarm, considering it was all the way in his room, but for the first time since they’d moved in Frank felt grateful for Ray’s grandmother’s weird wall clock. It wasn’t anything special or old, just one of the weird, plastic, black cat clocks where the eyes move in unison with the tail. It sent Frank right into uncanny valley every time he laid his eyes on the dammed thing, convinced it spouted some kind of demonic energy, but Ray swore on his grandmother’s grave it was just a factory recall that was never sent in. And yet, the annoyingly glitched “meow” it did on the hour successfully stirred him from his sleep (despite send him into a wild panic).

Work had gone relatively smoothly, save for a few douchebags coming in and nearly wrecking the display guitars on the wall, but the friendly neighborhood music shop was relatively calm, a welcome job for Frank. Ray had taken in the other two, busting his ass at the neighborhood coffee shop and occasionally doing a few nights a week of security part time by the warehouses down in the industrial part of town, but loosing that car had definitely shot them down in their hours. The majority of his shift was spent attempting to mentally calculate their funds for a cheap second or third hand, but it just wouldn’t do this month. Or the next.

Still, his thoughts were invaded by Gerard and his weird, amber eyes. Through all the mundane worries of his day to day life, his struggles and frustrations, he somehow managed to circle back to him again. It threw him off guard, if he was being completely honest. It had been a while since somebody made that much of an impact on him, even his crushes took time off his thoughts, but he didn’t exactly have a crush on Gerard. Whenever he thought of the night’s actual events he felt a little bit irritated at loosing his chance to get shitfaced, but anything else and he was floored.

So, shift finally behind him for the day, he figured he would just go to Wayne’s. The apartment would be empty anyway, so it wasn’t like anyone was waiting for him to come back home (a thought that gravely unnerved him) and he didn’t really have anything better to do than to add more drinks to his ever growing tab. Though he would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that the real reason for going was to try and run into Gerard and maybe put an end to the whole thing before it starts. Nip it in the bud sorta thing.

A bus and a few twists and turns in between the mixture of apartment complexes, dingy grocery stores, and laundromats, and he was walking up behind the bar, intent on smoking a cigarette or two before going inside. The weird alleyway was basically a second home to him by now, a space for an escape whenever he needed one that nobody really interrupted. It felt cozy, even though it was grimey and dusty and held probably a few questionable things in the dumpster not that far off, but still. He leaned back against the wall, bringing the cigarette up to his mouth, and closed his eyes.

A sudden smack against the wall right besides his left ear made him snap his eyes open, and he found himself facing the very man that haunted his thoughts. Frank immediately had the sensation of being trapped and cornered, wondering where the fuck he came from and how he snuck up on him so quick, but Gerard didn’t really speak at all except for a soft hum while he looked at Frank’s lips. He brushed his fingers against the soft skin surrounding the lit cigarette, gingerly prying it from him to then raise it to his own mouth for a drag. Frank swallowed a lump in his throat he didn’t realize he had.

“You could have just...asked for one, y’know,” he said, turning his head to the side to cough into the inside of his elbow. Gerard gave the cigarette back to him, fingers again brushing against each other in the exchange, and smirked.

“And miss the look on your face? No.”

Frank took a drag himself, a bit puzzled that the hint of menthol his cold let him taste was replaced vaguely of blackberries. He took a glance at Gerard’s mouth and quickly noticed it had a very distinct lack of berries of any kind, but his lips were a nice tint of pink.

“Take a picture, yeah?”

“....Of your mouth?” Frank asked him back, feeling caught red handed.

“Unless you’d rather have the real thing, you seem a little fixated,” Gerard smirked and pulled back from him, settling himself besides him on the wall. Frank suddenly felt himself grow nervous, a tinge of anxiety bubbling up in his chest. He shook his head from side to side trying to work it out but to no avail. It seemed the longer he stuck around Gerard, the more it grew.

“I’m not fixated, it’s just...you’re strange,” he said, weakly.

“Good strange, or?”

“I haven’t really figured that out yet, we did just meet and all. Though we did technically kiss already, hah...ah fuck, I shouldn’t have said that,” Frank scratched the back of his neck and bit the inside of his cheek, feeling like he’d stuck his foot in his mouth. He offered him his lighter and a cigarette, looking away to hide his heated cheeks. Damn, alright, so maybe Ray was actually on to something, if sharing a cigarette was enough to get him going these days.

Gerard took them from him, lighting up and taking a slow drag before handing the pack back. “Technical kiss?”

“Yeah, you know, you, uh...you took my cigarette and gave it back, I tasted you on it, it’s a technical kiss.”

“I don’t think that’s a thing.”

“It’s a thing! I think, I mean, we shared, and...alright I’m just going to stop talking now.”

“Speaking of just now meeting,” he said, and Frank was eternally grateful for the sudden change in topic, “we technically haven’t. And you owe me a life story.”

Frank pushed himself off the wall, tossing the cigarette butt on the floor and crushing it with his foot. He tried to look at him properly, and felt that anxiety bubble up again. It didn’t make any sense. Gerard was just a guy, a regular dude he’d just met in a bar. He’d met tons of guys before, and nobody made him feel that way or made him blurt out every stupid thought that creeped into his head.

When Frank failed to respond, Gerard pushed himself off the wall and walked up to him, straightening his back out to appear as if he was towering over him a little. Frank swallowed a second lump that had formed in his throat, the sudden closeness breaking down his walls and making him feel uneasy and panicky. He rubbed the tip of his nose with the back of his hand ( a habit he swore he’d dropped all the way back in fucking High School, for crying out loud), and dropped his gaze from his eyes.

“Frank, right?” Gerard said, voice dropping low suddenly. He traced a finger down the side of his cheek and cupped his face, softly urging him to look at him again. When their eyes met, Frank felt something akin to a major electric discharge flow from Gerard’s hands throughout his entire body, not at all like the shocks and butterflies he’s used to feeling around someone he liked. Or didn’t like. He still wasn’t sure what any of this was, only that whatever Gerard was doing was making him feel incredibly weak and confused and dizzy.

“Yeah,” he finally spoke, feeling Gerard hold his face a little bit tighter. The act, that should have sent him flying above the clouds, instead seemed like it was wrong. Horribly, indescribably wrong. The way he was touching him should have been nice, sweet, sending little tendrils up and down his spine and settling to pool in the bottom of his stomach, there should have been at least some form of affection in it. But it didn’t feel like that at all, and his body felt like it was protesting like mad, his intuition screaming at him to get out, to leave, to run before he wouldn’t be able to run anymore, but at the same time he wanted to stay, to sink in it all, to maybe even drown in whatever this was.

Gerard frowned then. The world suddenly dropped from underneath him, black covered his sight where the man stood before him, all he could see for that flicker of a moment was his eyes turning jet black. He pushed him off, scrambling to move a few feet back, but all that was there was Gerard looking confused and...maybe a little hurt.

“Is something wrong?”

“No!” He quickly responded with a nervous laugh, “No, no, all good, all very good, you’re just...this is kind of....”

“Intense,” Gerard finished for him, looking just as startled, “very very intense.”

“Right. Yes. That’s the word I would give it. Intense.”

Frank ran his fingers through his hair, taking in deep breaths. The panic seemed to subside, though he still felt unbelievably jittery and anxious as if he’d been given a few too many caffeine shots in his coffee. He tried to cleared his throat then only to have it turn into a major coughing fit.

“I, uh, I should go home. This cold isn’t getting any better and you should go check yourself out too, it’s...maybe it’s a bug, I don’t know? But we shared that cigarette and uh...yeah, precautions and all. Like my mom used to hound me for, hah...”

“Hm. I don’t get sick.”

“Oh, well, that’s great! Fantastic, then, we can share other things then- I mean, fuck, we don’t have to worry! Right, I’m just going to go, tell Wayne I’ll see him some other time for me, please?”

Gerard didn’t seem startled or hurt anymore, his face turning neutral and stony. He had already gathered himself again, sticking his hands into his pockets as Frank kept backing away, looking like a deer in headlights, “Sure. I can do that.”

“Cool, thanks man. Thanks! I’ll be seeing you, and I promise I’ll buy you a drink another time! Maybe next time?”

Frank turned on his heel before he heard Gerard’s response, mind and body intent on fleeing as fast as possible and as far as he could. He only vaguely heard something about leaving something behind, but kept on walking as fast as he could without looking too obvious.

He wasn’t exactly sure where he was headed for a while until he decided to walk the entire bus route home, figuring the unnecessary twists and turns the bus usually takes to make its stops would give him enough time to clear his head and calm down so he wouldn’t throw up. He made it to the park halfway from the bar to his building before he realized his legs hurt like hell and needed a break. He sat on the first bench he could find and dropped his head on his hands.

That was intense. That was so fucked up and intense and what was it with everything going black and blurry? Was he that nervous? Was he that much of a mess? Christ, he needed to get laid. That had left him with a weird ache, and even though he felt like it was all wrong the sensation alone made him want to seek it out more, pry at it more, find something sharp and poke it. Gerard was weird, it was as if there was an energy surrounding him that he didn’t care for controlling, a fire that seared him with a touch.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it. How he felt, how Gerard’s hand felt, how he kind of regrets leaving but also understands that if he stayed he would have said many wrong things and definitely would have thrown up in front of him. He’d already done that once to a date and was lucky enough to blame it on the drinks, he wouldn’t have had an excuse this time.

However, Frank really had no idea where all the panic and need to run came from. There was nothing. The guy was a horn dog, sure, so was Frank and was everybody on a good day. But there wasn’t anything, he didn’t get any creep factors, not even mass murderer vibes. Just that he was incredibly intense and maybe a lot to handle. He groaned into his hands. This was a disaster.

“Fucks sake...’Oh we can share other things’, what kind of a comment is that?” He mocked himself, “I just had to go on about the spit... would I like to taste it again? Maybe. In another setting? I don’t know, maybe! Did I have to go on and say it? Definitely fucking not.”

He quickly fished his phone out of his pocket to check the time. Ray should be just about done by now with his own shift and heading home soon. If he’d make it to the next bus stop nearby, he might be able to catch him at the same time. He stood up, brushing his pants off for any dirt and debris the bench might have had, and decided to just go home. He would dwell and beat himself up for it in another bath.

Frank pulled out another cigarette, intent on smoking the last bit of his nerves away before he realized he was definitely missing his lighter and not at all conjured up Gerard trying to let him know. He stopped in his tracks to let out a frustrated noise out in the park before putting it away again and walking faster.

He’ll just have to wait for home then. Great. Super! That was his only lighter and his weirdo, maybe a succubus, love interest had it. He could just buy another one, sure, but that was a zippo, man. A good one!

Frank turned the corner and saw the stop a little ways away. He just hoped Gerard didn’t think he was too much of a loser for running off after all he’d done was touch his face. As he reached the stop and waited for the bus to come around again, he decided next time they’d meet he wouldn’t let him get to him that easily. Frank knew the game and played it well, and Gerard would jus have to suck it up and meet a side of him he hadn’t had the chance to break out in a while. A side of him that would turn him into a weak mess instead, one that would definitely get a proper taste of blackberries.

\------

“He LEFT,” Gerard slammed his fist through the abandoned door in front of him, kicking through the debris it left behind, “For fucks sake, he fucking left. Again!”

“Calm down.”

“No, I will not calm down, I’m furious and your shitty little arguments won’t hold up this time.”

“You’re trashing abandoned crap under a highway, don’t you think that’s argument enough that you’re being ridiculous?”

Gerard turned to face his brother, fisted hand twitching besides him. He sneered at him, biting back a comment, before deciding he would do the mature thing and ignore the bait. Mikey adjusted his jacket a little while he rolled his eyes, looking bored.

“Look,” he started, looking at Gerard in the eye, “there will be more Franks. There ARE more Franks out there, you can’t stay hung up on just this one. You’re playing a dangerous game, getting so attached, and it’s no good.”

Gerard tensed his jaw up and quickly turned away from him, storming around the dusty, dirtied underpass to look for something else to break. He wasn’t hung up or attached, Frank had done nothing to earn any of those emotions but be an awkward little man, which, sure, was adorable how easily he turned into goo, but it was just that.

No, this was something more. This has never happened before in his entire existence in this planet, in this plane, and even the ones he’d made pacts with had eventually turned to him. He’d turned people all the way from the most willing, to hesitant, to the most resistant. Even that silly little man who thought himself to be a grand sorcerer fell, though Gerard had to use every trick up his sleeve to get him to fall out of his ego trip.

It had to do with the fact that, by all means, Frank should have been easy. But he wasn’t being easy and, if he was completely honest, it really got to him. Why?

“Relax, for fucks sake, Gee, what did that shopping cart ever do to you?” Mikey mumbled through a lit cigarette, watching Gerard make a racket as he kicked the handle out into oblivion.

“Exist.”

“Oh, so we’re getting edgy now, nice. You can just ask for my help, you know.”

Gerard rushed up to him again, standing as close and tall as he could to intimidate him, but Mikey was unaffected. “I don’t need any help,” Gerard growled, “I just need to find his buttons and push them already. Besides, you wouldn’t know shit about this, your people are already degenerates.”

“Okay, ouch, my men and women are not degenerates. By human standards, sure, collecting roadkill and doing magic are, for all intents and purposes, degenerate shit, but they behave. And shower.”

“Alright, fine, I apologize for insulting your devotees, at least I’m honest and don’t pretend to be a god.”

“Hey, if it works it works. I have witches. You,” Mikey pointed at his brother, smirking, “have a crush.

Gerard gawked at him, eyes quickly shifting between his accusing digit and the man who owned it. He tried to say something back, but Mikey quickly shut him up, “Now, see, there’s something you’re completely forgetting. I have a lot of notches on my belt, majority of whom could do so much damage and let it ripple across the entire country, while you’re wasting your time on a sad low life with no future. You’re loosing your touch.”

“Shut up,” he growled,

“You’re forgetting who you are.”

“Mikey, shut up.”

“You’re becoming nothing more than that face of flesh you wear when you go see him, dying that he’ll let you kiss him just once.”

“Mikey.”

“You’re nothing.”

Gerard suddenly slammed Mikey against one of the pillars with such strength, the concrete shivered and shook. Behind his body, a very sizeable crack formed whole bits of debris softly fell over his shoulders. His brother was unfazed from the impact, still wearing the same emotionless expression, while Gerard was dying to sink his teeth into his throat and make him bleed.

“You don’t know anything, Mikey Way. You have your own face, one I will remind you are also quite fond of wearing, and you’ve had your own pitfalls in affection.”

Mikey scoffed and shoved Gerard off of him, pushing him back. He shook off the dust from his jacket, frowning that the leather had suffered from Gerard’s sudden emotional outburst.

“I have, yes. But never with a human.”

Gerard huffed, turning away from him to get back to the pile of metal bars and wires that used to be the shopping cart. He couldn’t stop, not until all the metal turned into bits and pieces scattered all throughout the lonely, empty, dirt floored underpass. The shattering sounds filled his ears, noises that blurred out the feelings and turned them small. But before he could lower his mangled, distorted limb over it all, he briefly caught his reflection on a shattered piece of mirror somebody had discarded carelessly. He looked tired, worn, and hurt. His eyes burned with the most intense fury he could muster at the moment. It wad the same fire that flowed out from deep within his chest and lap at his surroundings, leaving a trail of shimmering light in his wake.

He sighed at himself. He wasn’t drawing this fury from himself, from his own well of power. It was all from coming from the angry, hurt, strange man he’d met not long ago. Gerard ran his fingers through his dusty, greasy hair, eyes never straying from his reflection as he slowly morphed his features to take his natural form, the face he knew was his. Instead of feeling comfort and familiar, he was surprised to find himself feeling more alien than anything else.

“You’re changing,” Mikey said, lighting another cigarette he held between his lips, “and you and I both know it’s one of two things.”

“Yeah,” Gerard mumbled back, face going back to his human form again and walking up to his brother. The shopping cart will be there for another night, for another fury, for another outburst. Frank seemed particularly frustrating and he predicted (correctly, even) that he would probably be circling back to this state more times than he would care to admit. Frankly, it should have been more disturbing how easily he threw him off.

Mikey placed a hand on Gerard‘s shoulder, offering him a drag with his free hand. Gerard took it wordlessly, the trails of smoke disappearing in the night winds, and placed it back in Mikey’s mouth.

“Hm,” he said, with an odd smile, “Blackberries again. It would be easier to use lipgloss, you know.”

“But how am I supposed to get the right taste? It’s all fake flavors and syrups, it’s disgusting.”

“Maybe, but it’s less trouble than changing the flavor of your spit to make a point. Listen, Gee, I care about you. Everyone else does, too. Fuck, even my devotees care about you, and-“

“They know about me?” He asked, incredulously.

“Duh. You fill the role of prodigal son, sort of, it’s a great story. Remind me to get my high priestess to tell you, they did this whole thing with fire and using gold ink to write in a silk book, really extra. But anyway... I’m just worried. It can be one of two things. You’re either starting to loose yourself in humanity, or...”

Mikey shot him a strange look, one that suddenly got his skin crawling. He suddenly remembered the white flash that followed right after his mark in Frank’s eyes, the way his eyes looked as if they’d glossed over for just that split second. It couldn’t be. Frank didn’t show any signs of it, his life was a clusterfuck waiting for a suicide in a dark room. What was worth saving him for?

“Judging by your reaction, I think we have a problem on our hands.”

“I’ll handle it.”

“Sure. Just keep in mind, divinity is a hell of a drug.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop, two chapters in one day. Cheers!

Frank fished around for a clean pair of jeans, sniffing the fabrics for anything foul or particularly offensive. He shook ones out in a weak attempt to work out a few of the wrinkles and decided they were the best he was going to get. It had been a few days of wrapping up, sweating it out, coughing up a few lungs, and hearing lecture after lecture from Ray for still going outside for a smoke, but his cold seemed to be slowly weaning off his body. He had thanked whatever higher power he could remember at the moment and apologized quietly for not remembering every obscure deity known to man, that he did not have to cure this by going to the doctors. He had shit insurance and wasn’t very eager to rack up a bill bigger than his rent, so when the day finally came that his nostrils cleared up, he rejoiced. Not for too long, though, considering his room still reeked with that musty dude scent, but he finally found out it wasn’t anything that had gone bad but just the laundry he needed to desperately get through.

He felt a stab of guilt, briefly hearing his mother’s voice echo in his mind for his dirty habits, and figured it was as good a time as ever to sort through everything. Pulling over what was one of his last clean shirts and sneakers, he went to work separating the colors into piles scattered in different areas and stuffed the first load into their laundry basket. He figured he may as well do both their laundry, thinking he did kind of owe a Ray one or two after being such a dick, so he knocked a couple of times on his door.

“Toro!” He yelled, waiting a few seconds and frowning at the lack of response. He knocked a bit harder then, lifting a leg up to balance the laundry basket over his thigh. He heard a soft groan come from inside and decided to play a bit of Russian roulette and risk seeing something traumatizing for the sake of checking up on him.

“I’m about to open the door, make sure any appendages are covered and any offensive material is put away or so help me God I will bleach my eyeballs.”

Frank turned the doorknob, moving the basket to sit on the side of his hip, and kicked the door slightly open. The darkened room wasn’t as messy as he thought, though he still had the legendary cursed dirty clothes chair everyone and their great grandmother seemed to own by the desk, and a mess of cables running all across the floor connected to several guitars. They seemed to be in all sorts of states, from completely destroyed and in pieces to missing a few knobs and strings, surrounded by all kinds of tools and equipment.

On the bed and under a crazy amount of blankets and covers, a lump seemed to shift and grunt. Frank shoved it with his foot, earning another groan.

“Dude, what’s the matter with you?” He asked, a bit weirded out that he was standing in Ray’s room for this long and not been kicked out yet. Ray huffed, shoving a few blankets off him to peek his head out at his roommate, cheeks slightly pinked.

“I may have caught a fever.”

“Oh. Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, no! No, it’s cool, I needed to wake up anyway, I have to finish fixing the Yamaha by noon so it’s owner can pick it up, and Pete texted me about this bass he needs help fixing, so.”

“Ray, you look like death with a hangover, you can’t be doing anything today.”

Ray huffed, beginning to throw off layer after layer of fleece and knitted cotton and whatever else the man owned, “I at least need to finish that guitar, that’s extra for our pockets.”

Frank bit the inside of his mouth. He suddenly felt like an absolute little shit, having complained so much about him and his own cold while Ray was here taking on another extra load just to make sure they could make ends meet.

“Okay,” Frank said warily, remembering last time he tried to get Ray to relax when he was sick (he ended up deep cleaning the entire kitchen instead of just the microwave like he had originally intended, all the while Frank tried to ensure him that it could wait until later). “Let me at least help. I can meet Pete, I have shit to do anyway, and you can stay home.”

“But you don’t know about bass guitars,” Ray tried to argue but was promptly stopped by Frank shrugging.

“I’ll figure it out, he won’t know the difference. You know he goes there for the guy who works in the audio department, right?” Frank said with a smirk.

“Patrick? Patrick panics at the first sight of a customer.”

“You and I both know that, but as far as he’s aware, Patrick seems aloof and mysterious and unreachable. Which means you can sleep and stuff your face with medicine, and trust that everything will be fine,” Frank argued, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, “Now, I’m doing laundry, give me your darks.”

Ray climbed off the bed and stuffed his dirty clothes into the basket in Frank’s arms, then settled himself at his desk and picked up the guitar. He gingerly laid it flat and got to work, fiddling with a few bits and pieces Frank would have figured weren’t much of anything. He loved his own guitar, wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world and was prepared to die in a fight for it, but he wasn’t Ray level into it. The guy could work magic with the cheap, broken instruments they’d found in the pawnshop, turning them into treasures. It didn’t really surprise him that someone had commissioned him, just that he was willing to take on another responsibility.

A part of Frank wondered if this was his way of dealing with everything, thinking that if he was always busy he never had the time to ponder on it all. Frank had his own ways of dealing with misfortunes, a badly glued together collage of coping mechanisms and bad impulses, and he wasn’t one to judge. But it still worried him. Ray definitely deserved better, better than having sunk down this low into rock bottom with him, but he still didn’t leave for some odd reason. Through thick and thin, and everything in between. Weird.

Frank pulled the door closed behind him, plucked his keys off the hook on the wall net to their front door, and made his way down into the laundry room in the basement. He tried not to think about it too hard then, life being already complicated as it was. Ray had his passions, some incredible ones, and it was lucky of him to be able to do it. Frank sure as hell wished he could do the same, being part of a band and screaming his lungs out into a microphone for the world to hear. But for now his main struggle was owning his own amp, something Ray definitely wouldn’t lend him on account of him busting his last one and Ray being incredibly weird about his equipment.

He suddenly wondered if Gerard had any kind of aspirations or dreams. Any kind of goal or achievement. He made a face to nobody in particular, pressing the buttons on the washing machine to get it going. Gerard didn’t seem like the kind to waste his time dreaming, he felt more like the kind of guy that knew what he wanted and went and got it, even if it was a temporary desire or a phase. It was strange to think of someone being like that, with all the stop signs life seems to give you, but he didn’t give out any other impression in that manner.

Though, to be truthful, it was weird to think of Gerard at all. That day, after coming home, dunking himself in hot water and lilac bath soap( and pouring his heart out over his guitar), he came to the conclusion that Gerard was way more than intense and scary, he was...really really addicting. It was only the second time they’d seen each other and Frank left feeling so electrified he wasn’t sure he wanted to punch him, kiss him, or get very very far from him, and it intrigued him completely. But it also confused him, never really feeling that tight of a connection with anybody else. And that was the part that scared him so much he had been actively avoiding pretty much any place he guessed Gerard might frequent.

But he couldn’t avoid him for too long. That tug was still there as if he could feel his red string of fate pulling them together, screaming “this is it! This is it!”, and yet...there was something wrong about it all. An underlying sensation that appeared to be drowning a little bit more every day, every minute becoming harder to perceive while his curiosity grew stronger.

On his way out of the building, laundry set, Frank looked around. There really was only one way to put this all to rest, and that was to stop being such a coward and face him. The best way to crack an obsession before it ever really begins is to clear away all those idealized situations and versions of them by standing in front of them, looking them in the eye, and challenging all the little daydreams that had the chance to come to life. He was just a guy. A regular guy with a regular job, regular hobbies, a regular life, who, sure, stood out. What were the chances he was something more than just that?

Slim.

So all that was left to do was to break it, and he knew exactly how. By pulling the rug off Gerard’s feet and taking him by surprise.

———

The music shop went decently. Not the most ideal way to spend one of his free days, but it was refreshing to be in an actual store and not just his cd store job where they like to pretend they’re selling the good shit. Pete was fun to be around anyway, always trying to make him laugh with the most ridiculous stories of his online encounters, and it honestly made him feel a bit better to be out and talking to another normal human being.

“Now, I’m not one to usually complain about the quality of role play in the World of Warcraft community,” Pete rambled on, taking a sip from his iced coffee, “but this guy was an absolute joke. He was trying to pass off as such a hero, bragging about his conquests as a fucking human paladin and, get this, you remember Dialphine, the paladin Draenei in my guild?”

“Y....yes?” Frank said, face scrunching up as he tried really hard to keep track of the conversation. He did like hearing about all the weird drama that seemed to take up 90% of Pete’s free time, but it all really went above and beyond his knowledge of what the game even was. It seemed like fun, but the amount of time Pete put into it just overwhelmed him and turned him off. Still, the characters looked pretty cool, but when he dared to suggest he wanted to make something called a Blood Elf, Pete looked beyond offended and demanded he picked one from the Alliance side, or whatever the fuck it was called.

“Right,” Pete continued, very passionate about the conversation, “Dialphine and her real-life sister, Farha, that’s also her characters name, they’ve been roleplaying paladins for so fucking long, and this guy goes up and tries to tell them they’re doing it wrong. I could not stop laughing over voice chat. They ripped into him so hard, I almost asked him for his Skype just to add him to the call so he could try and fight back, but they said no, leave it, so we voided him and rescheduled our event instead. Sucks, because we had so many people sign up, but he would have followed us all the way out of the city and ruined our RP.”

“Do you know any of these people’s real names?” Frank asked, stealing Pete’s drink to have a taste. He grimaced, the extra shots of caffeine and excessive amount of sugar and syrup he sweetly asked the barista to add were a little too much for him. Pete seemed taken by surprise and stuttered a bit, “Uh...well, no, but I know their battle tags...”

“What the fuck is a battle tag?”

“I...look, don’t judge me, alright, I’ve known these guys for like five years.”

“And you’ve never met them? That’s kind of lame.”

“It’s not lame, they’re all over the US! Kind of hard when someone is in New York, someone else is all the way down in Florida, and the Draenei sisters live in Ohio, we can’t really plan to go to the movies or whatever. Just, get your ass a decent computer and come play, I promise you it’s a lot of fun. I’ll even give you money for a character boost.”

“Okay, now you’re just fucking with me, what in the hell is a character boost?”

Pete groaned, the sound similar to that of a fifteen-year-old boy attempting to explain the latest craze to his aging parents. He shook his head side to side and laughed, smacking his arm across Frank’s shoulders. “We will get to that, I promise. You never told me why you came with me to the shop, by the way, Ray okay?”

Frank moved his hand in a so-and-so fashion, giving Pete back his frozen coffee. “He caught my cold and won’t stop long enough to get better.”

“Ah, and what’s this about a crush?”

Frank smiled slyly, rolling his eyes. Of course Ray told on him. The guy couldn’t keep any secrets at all.

“It’s not a crush. At least, not yet it isn’t. He’s just someone I met at Wayne’s, he’s...weird.”

“Weird, huh. I specialize in weird. Tell me about it,” Pete flashed him a charming smile, sipping from his frosty drink. Frank scratched the back of his head a little sheepishly as he told him about his grand two encounters with the strange man, trying his best to remain impartial and relaxed. He didn’t notice the smirk Pete had the entire time, same as he didn’t notice the pink that had settled over his cheeks.

“He’s interesting,” was his most favorite adjective to describe Gerard, but outside of that, he realized he really did have nothing else on him and Gerard had nothing else on him either. How was he supposed to take him by surprise if he didn’t even know how to work his way under his skin?

A bit thoughtful, Frank finished speaking and waited for Pete to stop smiling like an idiot.

“Stop that,” Frank said, smacking him lightly on the shoulder.

“Why? It’s cute. You have a crush.”

“I told you, it’s not a crush just yet. It’s just-“

“Interesting. I know. I felt the same way about Patrick, and now...” Pete trailed off, looking dreamily out into the streets before them. Frank sighed, a little exasperated.

“You know he’s terrified of you, right?”

“Oh, that’s even better. I can work with a deer in headlights,” Pete grinned, yet again, and finished off the coffee. He tossed the plastic cup into a bin they walked past and immediately clapped his hands together.

“What’s something you do know about him?”

“Nothing much, I told you already.”

“Okay...well, is there _any_ kind of topic that’s come up between you two?”

“Cigarettes. And I guess he asked if I was a catholic, but I don’t think he’s religious-“

“Religion! There, you have something!” Pete interrupted.

“Didn’t you just hear what I said? I don’t think he’s religious.”

“Still, it’s a lead and you have to follow that down the rabbit hole. What if we head down to the library and read up? Maybe we can find something for you to sprinkle into your conversation next time to get his attention.”

Frank scoffed, “Yeah, that’s what’s going to get me laid. ‘Hey, Gerard, what’s your favorite saint? Also, can you blow me in between the pews this Sunday mass?’”

Pete clapped him across the back, “That's kind of freaky, I like it! We’re doing this now, come on.”

“What, that was a joke, Pete come on I only have so many vacation days...”

But Franks pleas fell on deaf ears. Pete had already hurried up his pace and crossed the street, making a beeline for the community library. It wasn’t a bad destination to head to, Frank had been there a few times and it was a nice atmosphere with enough books to bury his nose in for days on end. But he generally avoided it after having a few late fees he had been unable to pay off at the time, feeling like the librarian there had him marked as a sketchy guy. Which made him feel extremely bad because she was really cute and looked like she could beat him up in a fight, and what else would a guy want from a chick?

But still, Pete rushed off, only turning around to wave at him to be quicker and still not slowing down. Frank decided to just give in to the guy and indulge him. For some reason, Pete was entirely oblivious to the fact that Frank had no need to research into Catholicism, feeling like he already knew and suffered enough at its hands, but it might be interesting to see what he could find. Especially if it might be an interest of Gerard’s. He just hoped he wasn’t some kind of fanatic or, worse, tries to get him to actually go with.

“Frank, come on! The future of your dick is at stake!”

Frank laughed, quickening up himself, “Stop telling the neighborhood, fucks sake!”

At the library, Frank tucked his hands in his hoodie’s pockets and looked like a kicked puppy. The woman at the front desk clicked her fingernails over the wooden surface, chewing loudly on a piece of gum as she eyed him carefully.

“I know you,” she said, the smack of the gum sounding louder as she spoke, but she didn’t seem bothered as she moved her eyes away from Frank to Pete, “now, you, I definitely know. How have you been? I would have thought you forgot how to read by now.”

“Nice to see you too, Lindsey,” Pete grinned, leaning over the desk to give her a quick kiss hello on the cheek.

Frank frowned. Of course he knew her. Was he the only sad sack who knew a handful of people while everyone else was off knowing everybody? He needed to get out more.

“What’s new?” Pete asked, sticking his hand all the way over the desk to pick up a small container. He clicked it open with his thumb, shaking it so a few pieces of ruby red gum fell onto his open palm, and put it back where he found it. He popped the pieces in his mouth, matching Lindsey’s loud chews.

“Well,” she said, fixing the glasses on her face, “I managed to snag the Leviathan trilogy. Should be coming in soon, it’s Young Adult. We also finally got someone to come in and check out internet access but it’s just gone offline this morning. I’m surviving on phone data right now.”

“Hm. Sucks.”

“Other than that, same as always. Granny Jojo comes in every day asking for you, we still have that guy from the neighboring church come and picket us for our witchcraft section, and...yeah, same as always.”

“Alright,” Pete said, smiling, “we’re actually here to check out some of that too. Well, not witchcraft, but religious stuff and whatnot. Do you have anything on Catholicism?”

“Of course, second floor. It’s in a bit of an awkward space, but it’s close to the bathroom and by a pile of sealed boxes. You might find someone else there, just this morning I had a guy ask for the same thing so if you’re lost, look for a pale man with black hair. Good luck finding exact titles though, I haven’t had the chance to sort through it all.”

Lindsey waved them off, going back to her computer. She eyed Frank warily again as Pete tugged his hand out of his pocket and dragged him up the stairs, but she didn’t seem to really know. Or care. Whichever it was, Frank was relieved. She seemed amazing, but, really, she scared the crap out of him. In a good way, but still.

On the second floor, Frank was pushed towards the area Lyndsey had told them about, “There you go! You’re welcome.”

“You’re welcome? You’re not coming with?”

“Fuck no, that stuff is boring. My guy likes instruments, you’re the one that has to do homework. I’ll be by the computers.”

“There’s no internet...” Frank said.

“No, but there is solitaire,” Pete looked triumphant, turning towards the old clunky machines. They seemed to run well despite how incredibly aged they looked. “Right. Solitaire. Okay, I won’t be long then, so don’t get too comfortable, yeah?”

Frank went ahead, climbing over the stacked boxes as carefully as he could and walking between the aisles. He found several things, a section on meditation neatly stocked on the shelf, a set of what seemed to be encyclopedias that he couldn’t recognize what exactly they were about, and a surreal amount on DIY crafts that didn’t seem useful to anyone.

He was having a bit of trouble, making his way through cluttered shelves and sections, before he remembered Lindsey mentioning someone else asking for the same things. He figured they’d have more luck than him, so Frank started looking for them.

After what seemed like ages and a strange number of times he’d bent over to peek between the books, he finally found a pair of shoes as he flattened himself to the floor to look under the bookshelves. A grungy pair of sneakers met him just on the other side. Frank lifted himself back up and hurried on to the aisle next to his and froze as the man came into view.

There he was, in all his frowning glory, with a dusty book in his hands. He wasn’t sure how to react, being taken completely by surprise himself as he hadn’t planned to run into him so soon, but here was Gerard angrily staring at the pages before him, looking like he was grimacing and muttering under his breath. It seemed Frank hadn’t been spotted yet, so he smoothly (though he probably looked incredibly stupid to any other bystander) slid away from him and back to the other aisle.

He felt his heart suddenly race, hearing it thump in his ears. It was just anxiety, nothing else to it. He had been planning to catch him off his guard and now that the moment presented itself, he was nervous. Just nervous. Nothing else to it. Definitely not because he was crushing on him so hard he wanted to die on the spot.

...right?

Frank shook his head from side to side aggressively, smacking his cheeks to shake himself out of that stupor. He had to man up already. It wasn’t even that big of a deal! It’s just Gerard reading a book. That’s it.

He blew air out through his mouth slowly and peeled around the corner. Gerard bit the nail on his finger and seemed to change his weight from one foot to the other, putting the book away and picking another one. Frank couldn’t make out its title from where he stood, but it seemed this one was making him just as upset from the way he continued on biting the rest of his fingers. He felt slightly mesmerized by the way his fingertips grazed his lips absentmindedly and roughy pulled himself back before he started going down that train of thought.

He took in a deep breath, counted to ease his nerves, and went to confront him. Gerard didn’t even notice him until he was right next to him, flashing his eyes up at him and smiling.

“Didn’t take you for a bookworm,” Frank said, sticking his sweaty hands into his pockets again. Why on earth was he so nervous?

Gerard snapped the book shut with one hand, placing it back in its place on the shelf, “I’m not, but I couldn’t resist the temptation to see what they carried.”

“Ah. And...what do you think?”

“Honestly?” Gerard turned to him and tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear, “it’s shit. It’s completely full of bullshit, they don’t even have anything remotely related to the truth.”

“The truth...?”

“Yeah.”

“Uhm...” Frank glanced at the book he had just put back on the shelf, unsure how to really respond. “You were holding the Bible.”

“Yeah? What’s your point?” Gerard asked, furrowing his brow, wondering what he implied by that.

“It’s the Bible, it’s...it’s kind of true. Well, for Catholics it is.”

“But it’s bullshit.”

“Well, a lot of people would agree but I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing...”

Gerard shrugged, turning back towards the shelf to pick out another book. He flipped through the pages quickly, humming softly. He found the page he was looking for and shoved the book into Frank’s chest, pointing at a paragraph.

“Here, this? This is legit. You can tell because of the way it’s written.”

Frank grabbed the book and turned it around so it was right side up. He quickly checked the cover and its title, but it all sounded completely surreal and not exactly something that should have been in this section. The paragraph itself read like some strange ritual, using overly flowery language and terms Frank had never heard of in his entire life, but Gerard seemed insistent he read it aloud.

“The creatures around us exist in spite of our belief, trudging around in an attempt to survive the same as all of us. Though some seem to carry a type of morality, it would be foolish to believe that it is the one we share, and... wait, what kind of book is this?”

“Doesn’t matter, keep going.”

“No, it sounds like it should be somewhere else, where did you find this?”

Gerard shrugged with a smirk, the kind of smirk that made his insides turn to soft butter. He closed the book, in spite of Gerard’s look of protest, and tried to look him in the eye. He couldn’t think of anything to do in that moment, though he noticed there was a lack of panic this time. The encounter felt almost friendly, with a distinct lack of intimidating aura that seemed to follow Gerard everywhere he went. Frank figured it was because he’d caught him doing something he enjoyed rather than out on a hunt for god knows what.

And yet, the entirely relaxed atmosphere gave him the perfect chance to strike. Except he hadn’t had any time to plan anything at all, so he was stuck just staring at him while Gerard’s smirk grew further.

Frank suddenly realized if he didn’t do anything in that particular moment, it would all turn around and he would end up right where he was before, submitting to whatever Gerard did and, this time, with nowhere to run.

“So...” Gerard almost purred, his mood switching. He looked like he was going to keep talking, maybe something about the way Frank was just staring. Or maybe something about his appearance. Frank didn’t give him the chance to finish his thought, slapping the book onto whatever shelf he had close by and suddenly grabbing the back of Gerard’s neck.

In one swift move he wasn’t aware he could do, Frank pulled him down and kissed him. He felt Gerard freeze beneath his touch and used the chance to wrap his arms around his neck and sink into the kiss further. He made sure to be the lead, keeping his mind focused on what he was doing instead of what was actually happening. But that little bit of anxiety crept into him and filled his stomach with the most intense butterflies he’d ever had to date. He pulled back slightly to breathe and his breath hitched.

Frank kept his eyes closed, knowing that if he met Gerard’s gaze it would be all over. He felt him grab his waist and felt his warm breath over his mouth. Gerard slid his hand up his back and threaded his fingers in his hair on the back of his head, eliciting the sweetest shiver from Frank.

“Frank...” Gerard whispered against Frank’s lips, “Open your eyes.”

“I can’t...”

Gerard pulled him closer. The smell of old books, aged paper, and dust were a thing of the past, the only thing overwhelming his senses were blackberries. Frank pressed his forehead against Gerard’s, feeling a little dizzy from it all. He felt Gerard gently bite and tug at his lower lip and he shivered.

“Open your eyes...” he whispered again. Frank shut him up with another kiss, stopping him from trying to tempt him further. He knew Gerard knew he would lose his footing if he looked at him, and he was determined not to lose this battle.

He was Frank fucking Iero, and he was going to show him whether he liked it or not. He pressed himself against Gerard, ignoring his words, ignoring the fact that he was making out with someone in the back corner of a library, and ignoring the nagging voice in the back of his head that once again begged him to stop, to run, to get far away from whatever this person was.

He had no reason to panic, no reason to be so frightened by his mere presence. He was going to cut all of that at its roots and solidify his footing. If Gerard liked it, then good. If not, tough. He could run off and try to manipulate someone else. It wouldn’t be Frank.

Gerard pushed his head even closer to himself, their lips making a soft smacking noise. He broke it just enough to suck on Frank’s bottom lip and earn a little sigh.

“Please look...” he asked, one more time.

“Why?”

“Because I need to see your eyes.”

Frank scoffed. So he was a hopeless romantic. That made two of them. “No,” he simply answered. Gerard suddenly bit into his lip and muffled his cry with another kiss, lowering his hands from his head, down his back, and tucking the tips of his fingers into the waistband of his pants. The cry had turned the kiss open-mouthed, and Gerard took this chance to slide his tongue into Frank’s mouth. A moan escaped him, a little louder than he should have, and Frank responded.

It tasted so sweet and felt so incredible, Frank swore nobody else had ever kissed like that. He even swore nobody else had ever _held_ him like that before, so completely and utterly devoted to the moment that everything else just fell into a void. He didn’t want it to end, he wanted to keep going and keep pushing the kiss into something more, a familiar warmth settling into the bottom of his stomach and making his pants feel tighter.

Gerard started to tuck his hands further into the waistband, tracing circles into the skin underneath it and slowly trailing his touch to his front when a sudden voice shook them both.

“Frank! Hey, are you done yet?”

Pete’s voice suddenly shocked Frank out of the dreamlike state, shoving Gerard off him in a swift second and rubbing the back of his sleeve over his mouth to clean up any spit that might give him away. He frantically looked around, trying to pinpoint where he was.

“Yeah!” He answered, clearing his throat and softening down bits of hair that were sticking up all over the place from Gerard tousling it earlier, “Yeah, I’ll be right there! Don’t come find me, don’t worry!”

Frank finally looked at Gerard. His eyes were dark, the look on his face incredibly intense and giving Frank that panic again. Just the way he looked at him like he had successfully hunted him down and caught him in a trap gave Frank a jolt of electricity all over him, and he once again felt that desperation to get away before it was too late. But too late for what? What kind of message was his body and brain getting? Why was Gerard staring at him like he was a piece of meat waiting to be devoured? And how the fuck was he supposed to hide his raging boner from the librarian?

Gerard straightened himself back and smirked. His butterflies went raging then, and he wanted to throw up. Fuck. It was more than addicting. It was a thrill he’d never encountered before. Gerard was the livings, breathing embodiment of an adrenaline rush and Frank was hooked.

Just behind him, Pete poked his head through a stack of books. “Found you! Any old shit you want to bring home?” He asked, oblivious to the situation until Frank whipped around and squeaked in surprise. Pete grinned.

“Oh. Hey, buddy,” he asked, crossing his arms as best he could and leaning over, “who’s your friend?”

“Nobody! Let’s go home, I’ll catch up.”

“Are you sure? Because you look...” Pete made no attempt to hide the glance he made down to Frank’s crotch, “busy.”

“I’m not,” Frank responded through gritted teeth and a forced smile, “I’ll catch up. Bye, Pete.”

Pete waved a hand and slid back out of through the books, closing the gap. Frank felt his stomach sink in embarrassment. He just got caught doing something dirty in a library, what the hell was this even? It felt like the most surreal fantasy come to life.

He coughed and rubbed his face to try and get himself put together again. Besides him, Gerard kept a bit of an eerie silence as he watched the two friends talk, but Frank shrugged it off.

“So, uh...” Frank started, trying to break the obvious sexual tension a little, “do you have a phone number or...somewhere I can reach you?”

Gerard’s eyes suddenly lit up, and the intense atmosphere immediately dissipated. He looked taken by surprise for the second time that day, patting his pockets awkwardly until he pulled out a flip phone. He frowned at the device and kept pressing buttons until he scoffed and just handed Frank his phone.

“I can hardly work these things. Call me old fashioned, whatever.”

Frank hummer and put his phone number in and called it. His own phone rang a funny little tone that broke the tension further and made Gerard look like he was trying not to laugh. Frank blushed. “I can’t work the ringtone, okay? You can’t even add in a contact so shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Gerard responded playfully. Frank relaxed, smiling at him. the whole thing was weird, but now it felt as f they’d been friends for a while and just didn’t realize it. Gerard had dropped his whole act, and Frank wasn’t being an asshole. He was surprised by how easy it felt now.

Frank handed Gerard back his phone. He put it back in his pocket and smiled.

“You’ll be hearing from me, yeah?” Frank said, feeling like Gerard needed to hear the reassurance, “I won’t disappear this time.”

“I know you won’t,” Gerard said with confidence.

“Cool, uh...I’ll be going.”

Frank was about to leave, almost turning around, but Gerard stopped him. He pecked his cheek gently, a loving gesture that was completely unexpected by Frank.

“See you around.”

“Yeah. See you.”

Frank left Gerard up in the religious section of the library, sneaking past Lindsey and her ever watchful gaze, to meet Pete right outside. The man didn’t stop pestering Frank with endless questions about who that was, what happened, and the sounds he heard, but it all went past Frank’s ears as he replayed the moment over and over in his head. He could hardly believe he actually managed to kiss him first, and how it all happened. Sure, he still felt that fucked up panic, but at this point he wanted to feel it more and more. It was so...incredible.

With Pete rambling on and on, Frank just let his voice become a muffled mess as they both made their way back to see how Ray was doing. As he smiled into nothing, he kept his hand wrapped around his phone in his pocket with a little bit of hope it would buzz soon.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, any mistakes you could point out I would love you forever. It's somewhat surprising me how long this is turning out and how slowly its working its way through. Have fun!

He felt familiar. Out of everything that happened, what struck him the most was that he felt familiar. 

Gerard went back to the underpass in a strange stupor, his mind racing through numerous questions but failing to provide him the answers he was looking for. He leaned against the cracked pillar and toyed with the forgotten lighter in his hand, twirling it around and through his fingers with a swift dexterity as he stared into the distance with an unreadable look on his face, trying to figure it all out. 

The kiss had brought him strange feelings of nostalgia, as if long-forgotten memories had bubbled up to the surface the second their mouths collided. After that first touch, it was in everything. The way he kissed, the soft noises he made against him, and, above all else, how comfortable he felt. 

When Frank pushed him off, he was aching for more. He very nearly dragged him into the bathroom, desperately wanting to lock the door, make him suffer just a little bit. He had a nagging feeling he might like it. But when he asked for his number, it was as if a switch flicked in his head and he just felt...warm. Soft. He briefly wondered if he was angry because Frank wasn’t falling for his tricks or because he was falling for Frank’s, but pushed it away as fast as he could. He wasn’t a lovesick fool. Love had no place in this, though he couldn’t deny how excited he felt when Frank put his number in his phone. Just like he couldn’t deny how upset he felt that he had to go. 

By then, it wasn’t even that he wanted to bang the life out of him, he genuinely didn’t want him to leave. 

And it was all so painfully familiar, like he’d lived this moment before almost second by second, and it was driving him up the wall. He’d even forgotten to get cigarettes yet somehow remembered to keep the lighter close. He wasn’t one for losing himself in his thoughts this way, save for when his muse struck and he could focus on nothing more than his art, his passions, his most intricate work. Gerard wasn’t used to having someone overwhelm his mind, let alone a human. 

No. Scratch that. It may be time to officially disregard the human label. To the untrained and inexperienced, it would appear that Frank had fallen into Gerard’s trap and it was only a matter of time before he was wrapped up in his web, waiting to lose his head. He did kiss him, after all, a wet, sloppy, desperate kiss. But Gerard was never in control of that situation, even when he thought he might have persuaded him to lower his guard and let him lead, Frank kept a steady hand and twirled him into a dance where only he knew all the steps and never told Gerard what came next. He didn’t even expect him to shove him off like that. He should have. He should have known he wasn’t alone, he’s usually so perceptive.

And if Frank had resisted him so far, yet he was clearly interested...then, what did he want? What was he thinking? For the first time in as long as he could remember, Gerard didn’t know how to play the game. It shook him to the core so deep it was the only thing keeping him from sending him a message. It’d been a week since they’d last spoken, the days and nights dragging like hell, but he couldn’t even think of what to say. His goal was to wrap him up, and he was the one getting wrapped. 

Gerard gritted his teeth and gripped his phone in his fist. He pushed himself off the pillar and brushed away a few loose locks of hair from his face. He might have to take Mikey up on his offer. If Frank had been touched by the divine, it meant whatever touched him wasn’t far off. This means the guy has backup, whether he realizes it or not. It would only make sense for Gerard to get a little backup of his own, even if it was just to use it as a ruse to distract himself from the small little seed of affection that had begun to grow somewhere inside him. No matter what happened, no matter how it all ended, he couldn’t go down that road. It wasn’t his to walk.

He sighed, feeling oddly weary. The weather was turning back to its usual state of doom and gloom, rain and hail, stormy winds and all. Whenever he was graced with a sunny day, he quietly basked in the sun's warmth, and he was rather disappointed to see it go. But it wouldn’t be natural for the sun to stick around wherever they walked, the dark cloud that followed them everywhere they went was one of their indicators. But while Mikey adored their “atmospheric pet”, as he called it, Gerard often wondered what it would be like to not feel so cold anymore. 

He took a deep breath. The fresh air filled his lungs briefly, and he slowly blew it out. 

He might have it someday again. Or maybe not. Maybe never again. It didn’t matter right now. 

Right now, what did matter was finding Mikey and getting something to trap the rabbit that had somehow outwitted and escaped the hound. 

———

He eventually found Mikey on the rooftop of an old abandoned warehouse. He wasn’t hard to track, a man who favored the out of the way had his favorite spaces to frequent, but Gerard seemed to almost lose him for a few seconds. It seemed a bit odd to him, but whatever it was, the idea swiftly went to the back of his head as he approached him. 

Mikey didn’t bother turning to greet his brother, favoring the view of the setting sun from the height. He had a foot hooked on the rusty railing and leaned over it, somewhat peaceful. 

“There’s another storm coming,” he said, voice hoarse and strange. 

Gerard hummed in agreement. “This one will be worse. And longer.”

He couldn’t really see his face, but it didn’t take him long to realize Mikey had blood on him. The odd, calm way he carried himself was only ever-present after he’d satisfied his taste for a thrill. It was something they didn’t share, Gerard had always dabbled in the harmony of human relationships and causing chaos in that manner, while Mikey...

Mikey liked sacrifices. 

“Did you come to your senses yet?” He asked with his eyes still fixated on the slowly descending sun. 

“Yeah,” Gerard said. He met him at the railing, keeping his view in front of him. He knew better than to look him in the eye then and there. “I might need a bit of help.”

“What kind?” 

“For now? Information.”

Mikey chuckled. “When are you going to stop messing around and do your job? When are you going to grab him by the neck and show him who you really are, huh?”

Gerard snarled, resisting the urge to reach out and slam Mikey’s face against the metal bars. “I am doing my job, I’m doing it my fucking way.”

“No you aren’t, you’re losing yourself again and you’re sinking down into the pathetic whirlpool that is Frank Iero.”

Gerard had to bite his lip, feeling the urge to argue back that he wasn’t pathetic and he wasn’t a whirlpool. Frank wasn’t either of those things. Sad, yes. Down on his luck, yes. But it wasn’t fair to call the guy anything when he hadn’t even met him. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, so stop implying. I told you. All I need is information, a little help to know what I’m dealing with.”

“You’re unbelievable. I already know what you’re dealing with, and you would too if you stopped sticking your tongue down his fucking throat long enough to see it.”

Gerard felt his chest suddenly tighten. Mikey had been at the library. Following him, watching him, keeping an eye on him. Keeping track of every little move he made, possibly even predicting it before he thought of it himself. He knew Mikey in this state, and what usually led up to his grand finale of gurgling screams and chants was days on end of heightened senses and disaster. And if he had been following him, he definitely followed Frank home. 

The thought bubbled up a fury inside of him, and he gripped the metal so tight his knuckles turned white. He had only a split second of thinking of swinging for him when Mikey swiftly smacked his arm across his face, making him fly backward and land flat on his back. He grunted, feeling his nose had suffered gravely in the hit, but before he could even attempt to sit up, Mikey was above him and pressing his boot on the side of his head to keep it down. 

He couldn’t see his face still from his angle, the only thing facing him was his other foot. Darkened blood drops peppered the leather, and he could just barely make out larger stains trailing up his pants. Gerard tried to lift the shoe off his face, but not even his best attempts made him budge. 

“You need to understand that I care about you,” he spoke in a soft, slow voice, “okay, Gee?”

Gerard offered him a muffled curse that made Mikey press his head harder on the concrete. “And because I care about you, it means I’ll keep you safe. Okay? I’m going to keep that information to myself. And you are going to find someone else.”

“Who?” He managed to grunt out, now desperate to get him off and toss him over the edge the roof, consequences be damned.

“Anyone!” Mikey growled, “Anyone but Frank. You have a month. I’m going back home to sleep, if by the time I’m back you haven’t had a string of new victims, you’ll find yourself hung and tied to the cross in church on Sunday mass. Give them something to fucking pray about. And if I hear anything about you even thinking about him, I will tear you apart.”

“Who the fuck made you king, huh? Where is this all coming from? You couldn’t care less about what I did, with who, or why for centuries, and this one little fallback is enough to drive you to this state? What the fuck is he?! Answer me!”

Mikey laughed loudly. He leaned down and gripped Gerard’s hair. He could smell it in his breath, the thick coppery stench just pouring out of him. Normally, it wouldn’t have bothered Gerard at all, but today it was making him sick all over. “What the fuck are you...?” Gerard blurted out without thinking. It didn’t feel like Mikey then and there. It felt like something else had come over him, enveloped his very being and changed him into a monster. He briefly wondered if this was what was really lurking inside him when his thoughts were interrupted. 

“What I am is not of your concern. And what Frank is, is six feet under real soon. Get your shit together, and be good. I’ll be watching.”

The pressure on his head lifted and Gerard tried to grab a hold of him, his leg, his foot or just about anything, but he found himself clawing at an empty space. The anger he felt had shaken him up so bad that his hands had switched, a dusty black taking over the usual pink tinge of the skin of his hands that ended in a horrific, distorted version of fingertips. He rose to his feet and let out a loud, furious scream at the top of his lungs. 

He was being treated like a child. Like a nuisance. And Mikey was running the show, getting himself into a superiority complex and making himself out to be the ringleader of their team. It was making Gerard lose his mind, especially the fact that no matter what strength he summoned, it wasn’t enough to even move a fucking toe off his foot. 

The side of his face stung, the concrete having scratched his cheek and forehead. He took a few deep breaths, attempting to calm himself down and relax. Gerard desperately needed to get himself back to a calm state and figure this out. 

On the one hand, he had a strange man overwhelming his senses so much he very much ached to have more of him, more of his laugh, his voice, his company. On the other, a maniac running around with his ego getting the most of him. Mikey could very much become overconfident and lose his footing at one point or another, that much he could count on to release him from whatever hold Mikey had on him, but the time it would take for him to slip was hazardous and filled with unsteady grounds. The damage he could do until then would be catastrophic, not just for the residents of New Jersey and beyond but to Gerard himself. If he had hopes of spending the rest of his immortal life under his own rules, he had to break out of this fast. 

But at the same time, he was slowly slipping into a world of heartache. His chest clenched at just the thought of looking at Frank in the eyes again, and he just didn’t understand why he reacted so strongly to him. 

Gerard let out another angry scream. The sun had set already, only bits of light still shining through the buildings far away. Behind him, the clouds had gathered together menacingly, and a blanket of black was falling over the city. He brushed himself off and rubbed the little bits of sweat and blood off his face with the back of his arm. 

If he was doing this alone -and with eyes following him wherever he went-, he had to be smart. Clever. And, unfortunately, he had to rely on whatever information the humans had compiled in their reign over the earth. Which meant he had to find a better reading selection than what the local library had to offer him. 

Softly, he turned on his heel and began to descend the numerous stairs of the warehouse. As he figured now was as good a time as ever to go for a smoke, Gerard decided it was time to pay a little visit to that narcissistic, overconfident sorcerer he knew. He just had to make sure he wouldn’t annoy the living shit out of him long enough to figure out if he had any hope of surviving it all with his sanity in check. 

For all the bullshit Mikey blurted out, he was right about one thing. Divinity really was one hell of a drug. 

———

“You actually saw him?”

Ray mumbled, nose blocked and stuffed. He wiped his dripping nostrils with a balled-up tissue, tossing it successfully into a bin across the room. Besides him, Pete snuggled into the ever-growing mass of blankets, telling him all about the guy he caught Frank with in the library, while Frank was stood in the kitchen waiting for his cup noodles to cook. Frank impatiently tapped his fingers on the countertop, dying to pound on Pete for opening his big fat mouth.

They were gossiping. Gossiping! About his life! Frank had managed to get Pete to leave when they were halfway to his place when he realized he wouldn’t keep his secret library shenanigans to himself, but instead he obsessively tried to tell Ray via text. It took everything out of Frank to successfully keep Ray off his phone, the numerous texts that depicted an incredibly detailed account pouring in like a waterfall. But he couldn’t keep him away forever, the friendly bastard, so the second he came through the door Pete ran off to Ray’s room to pull him out and migrate him onto the couch. He tried his best to wrestle him down, but through his attempts Pete was embarrassingly describing the sounds he’d heard (with added impression).

“I’m not gonna lie, I thought this guy was imaginary for a little bit,” Ray spoke into another wadded up ball of tissue. Frank felt incredibly offended then, poking his head into the living room to glare at his roommate. 

“No, he is completely real, insanely attractive, and a complete and utter horny bastard,” Pete said, “They were all over each other, if it wasn’t for me they would have fucked on the spot and gotten banned from the library.”

“Might I remind you that you promised you didn’t see anything?” Frank yelled, turning crimson. Pete shrugged, grinning, “I lied, I saw everything. He wanted a piece of that Iero meat.”

“Stop, oh my god.”

Frank picked his fork off the top of the styrofoam cup and ripped the lid off completely. He went over to his friends, giving up on keeping his blush a secret, and flopped onto a pile of cushions on the floor. “It wasn’t like that,” he tried to say, attempting to convince them that it really wasn’t that big of a deal, but Ray smirked at him and tapped his knee with his foot. 

“There’s no way it wasn’t, you’ve been practically edging yourself since you met him. That whole ‘oh, I’m pissed’ thing was so transparent.”

Frank rolled his eyes and stuck his fork in the noodles. He twirled it around, mixing the powder into the water a little better, “At the very least please believe me that it wasn’t like Pete described it. It was just a kiss, and it wasn’t going anywhere but just making out...”

“But you wanted it to go further,” Pete suggested, sticking his tongue out and successfully evading a flying pillow that nearly smacked him in the face. 

“Hey, speaking of sexual frustrations,” Ray interrupted, pausing to cough into the inside of his elbow, “Any updates on your love affair?”

Frank could almost kiss Ray for the change in subject. Pete sat himself up straight, raising his arms high above his head to stretch. Frank was getting ready to hear his usual manifesto, his plans of ever undying love, his dreams of marriage and white picket fence and fantasies of Patrick laying naked on a bed of roses or whatever else the weirdo fantasized about, but Pete only smiled softly. He almost seemed sad. 

“Yeah, I don’t think it’ll go anywhere,” he said, relaxing again. 

“Why?” Frank asked. It was so unlike him to give up on somebody he cared about. 

“Something came up that I need to take care of. Besides, we’re from two completely different worlds.”

Ray looked at Pete dumbfounded. “He works in an instrument shop. He can sing like an angel and play guitar, you play bass and write lyrics. It’s like puzzle pieces, what about that is two different worlds?”

Pete just shrugged, “It just kind of is. Like I said, I had other fish to fry anyway.”

“Wow, Pete, you’re growing up,” Frank said in a mock tone and pretending to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye, “you have priorities above a dick appointment. I’m so proud of you.”

The pillow suddenly flung towards Frank, who luckily smacked it away at the last second. He lifted his cup noodles with a frown, “Hey, did you forget I have gourmet shit over here? Don’t disrespect the ramen, what did the ramen ever do to you?”

Pete laughed and relaxed and suddenly he was back to his usual peppy state, Sax mood forgotten for now. He chatted away once more to a very drowsy Ray, while Frank turned his focus back to his food, happily stuffing his cheeks with the over-salted meat tasting noodles. He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and leaned back against the pillows as best he could without spilling. 

Today was the last day of his leave. Which meant he’d have to haul his ass out of bed, clock in those hours, and haul his ass back to bed for who knows how long. He wasn’t excited to get back into the daily grind, as little of a grind it technically was, but he was a bit relieved to be doing something. Near the end, he started to get a little fidgety and anxious being cooped up inside all day while Ray tinkered away in his room and occasionally sneezed. He played his guitar to his heart's content, scribbling away odd lyrics and phrases and tunes in a notebook he kept close by, but the fact that he had to (still) give that amp back made him a bit disheartened. 

He’d counted the money a few times the night before, keeping track of both their incomings and outgoings and figured that if he could convince the manager to give him some extra hours, maybe bribe a co-worker or two to switch with him, he could spare the funds to get his own second hand. He felt a little bit of glee but tried not to let it get to him too much. They were both all too familiar with last-minute expenses that chipped away at whatever savings they’d tried over the years and felt that dejected disappointment too many times to count. 

He hadn’t really had much to do or many places to go to anyway. The bar wasn’t really an option, not because of Gerard but because he’d had a few angry texts from Wayne about his open tab and felt horrible facing him and asking for another drink, and the library...well, the library was an odd mix of fear and arousal. He’d thought about the kiss so much that at this point just the smell of books got him going a little bit, and the fear. Well. Lindsey worked there. Pete swore up and down she was great and fantastic, but she had such a look on her face when he turned the books back in that he still hadn’t lived it down. 

Now finished with his meal and still bored of the conversation, Frank stood up and headed to the kitchen. He’d just tossed the cup into the bin when an odd scratching noice startled him. He stood on the tip of his feet and leaned across the sink to try and look outside the small, rectangular window just above the counter, but the rains were hitting it so hard he couldn’t see much of anything. Frank hummed and slid off the counter, turning the water on very hot and letting it fill the sink and cover the dishes. He opened a drawer to pull out a pair of rubbery yellow dish gloves but froze, hearing the scratching again. This time it was a bit louder and a bit more desperate. 

Frank lifted himself back up, again, and tried his best to look around. He was about to give up when a meow and a black shadow pressed itself against the window. 

“Oh, damn,” he mumbled. He twisted the little window’s handle and pulled it inside the kitchen, and immediately a skinny little black cat rushed inside, chatting and meowing loudly. He (or she? Frank hadn’t had the chance to check just yet) was absolutely soaked, covered in leaves and dirt, and was aggressively cuddling up to Frank’s leg.

“Hey? We have a situation?” Frank said in a questioning tone, picking up the dripping little thing and keeping it away from himself. The cat meowed and purred and twisted in his grasp, unhappy about being handled in that way. He walked with them to the bathroom and grabbed the first big, thick towel he could find and tossed it over him, trying to rub away the water. Numerous muffled noises came from underneath, though he wasn’t trying to scratch him so Frank figured the cat was rather happy to be wrapped up and dried. 

Ray and Pete came in just after Frank was done and the black cat had freed its head from the towel. “That’s a cat,” Ray stayed, rather obviously. Frank rolled his eyes, not granting that a response. At their feet, the cat hopped out of the towel and chirped happily, turning from man to man as it rubbed itself against their legs. 

“We can’t keep him,” Ray lamented. His eyes had lit up at the sight of him, and he lent down to give their head a little pat. 

“We can’t put him back outside,” Frank angrily stated, crossing his arms across his chest. He refused to let him back outside in this weather. The world was currently crashing down on them in the form of a thunderstorm, their landlord could eat shit if he said anything about them having a cat for at least a few nights until it let. He could find a shelter when it wasn’t so bad, for now he was staying. 

“Okay, fine,” Ray agreed, “but we don’t have any cat food or litter...”

“That’s easy, there’s a ton of litter down in the cellar. The landlord uses it for the winter when the roads freeze over, he won’t notice a bag missing. And cat food, well...”

Frank thought for a moment. He squeezed himself between Ray and Pete, who kept cooing and making small noises at him, and went over to the kitchen. He opened a few cupboards open, grumbling as he shoved a few tins and boxes from side to side, and made a little happy noise once he found what he was looking for. 

“Here, we have a few cans of tuna we can use until we figure something else out.”

“I don’t think that’s too healthy for them,” Ray wondered, cat already wrapped up in a blanket on his arms. His big eyes looked around the room, head sticking out of the little bundle, and he meowed loudly when he spotted the can in Frank’s hands. 

“We don’t have much of another choice,” Frank said, clicking the tin open. The cat jumped out of Ray's arm and kept Frank’s legs, waiting for him to place the little saucer filled with tuna on the floor. 

“He can’t be a stray,” Pete said, keeping a short distance from it. 

“We’ll figure that out another day. For now, he had a warm place to sleep in and something to eat.”

“How did he even show up here? You guys are like four stories up.”

Ray tapped on the window’s glass with the back of his knuckle, “The huge tree out front has a few decent branches that stick out. I’ve been trying to get the landlord to get someone to come by and trim them, but the cheap bastard hasn’t moved his ass. Still, it got us a new friend...” 

The cat mumbled into its food, quite pleased to fill its stomach. Both Frank and Ray just stared at it eat, smiling. 

Before them, Pete made an odd face. Frank noted he didn’t seem pleased, but why he couldn’t tell. He wanted to ask him what his deal was but Pete spoke first, “I think I’m going to head back. It doesn’t look like the weather will lift and I need to be home.”

Both Ray and Frank glanced outside, baffled that he was willing to fare the weather rather than stay in the company of them and a cat. Frank figured he would have stayed the night, having spent all day there anyway, but he was already picking up his backpack and heading to the door. 

“You’ll be hearing from me!” He cheerfully said, grinning again. 

“Oh I know I will, you can’t stay the fuck away long enough for us to miss you,” Frank joked, smiling at him back. 

“The whole absence makes the heart grow fonder is bullshit, I have a lot of love to give and you two,” he pointed at them both with one hand, “are lucky enough to be on the receiving end. I’ll bring something cooked next time as a thank you for letting me annoy the life out of you. Sound fair?”

Ray frowned, “You don’t annoy us, why would you say that? Frank, what’d you say to him?” He smacked Frank lightly across his shoulder in a mock scold.

Frank scoffed, “Nothing! I didn’t say anything! God, am I that much of a dick?”

They both answered yes in unison, getting Frank to groan and frown. Whatever, they both still stuck to him like glue so he couldn’t be too bad. 

Pete waved them off and left, the door clicking behind him. On the floor, the cat was licking its mouth, the plate empty before them. Ray gently picked it up and wrapped it back up in the blanket, where the cat purred and nuzzled against Ray’s chest. 

“Poor thing, you’re just as bad as we are, hitting rock bottom and all...”

“Yeah,” Frank agreed, “We can find him a home once the storm’s passed. Meantime, he can stay here.”

“You know it’s a she, right? We should call her Pansy.”

“Wha-? Call her? We can’t name her, we’ll get attached. And weren’t you the one saying we can’t keep her?”

“Well...yes, but she’s so cute, look.”

Ray twisted himself around to give Frank a better view of the cat's little head. Her eyes were shut and she was purring so loud Frank was surprised she didn’t take the whole building down. Frank hummed. She was adorable, and he did miss having a pet. He still preferred dogs, especially the ones he owned before, but if there was a pet they could actually cuddle and get away with under the weirdly attentive watch of their dreaded landlord, it was a cat. 

“Pansy then...” he said, already sounding convinced. 

“And she sleeps in my bed,” Ray blurted out. He was already halfway to his bedroom when Frank protested, “Excuse you? You don’t get to call dibs! Pansy sleeps where she wants!”

“And that will be my bed!”

“Ugh you’re such a baby sometimes, Toro,” Frank tried to sound upset, but just looking at Ray and how happy he was with her melted his heart a little. He heard the metal frame of his bed creak a little and figured he was making a small nest for her with his pillows. Frank decided he’d let Ray win this time and not push it, the small little ball of fur could cuddle with him as often as he wanted to as long as he could keep smiling like that. 

He picked up his pair of keys from the wall hook and shouted out at him that he would be heading down to find the litter and haul it back, earning an unintelligible noise in return. Walking down the flight of stairs, he let his mind wander and wondered if Gerard also liked cats. Shrugging to nobody in particular, Frank let his mind wander a bit in thoughts of Gerard, their kiss, and how much he hated him for still not texting back.


End file.
